


The Beginning of Something to Savor

by bottseveryflavorbeans_jrayoh23



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Partners, Divorced Harry, Draco is helpful, Famous Harry, Harry is sorta bummed, M/M, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Older Harry, Post Hogwarts, Sexual Tension, Wizarding Gay Bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 13:48:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17623541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottseveryflavorbeans_jrayoh23/pseuds/bottseveryflavorbeans_jrayoh23
Summary: Draco is out to blow off steam when he spots Harry Potter, crying, at the bar. He goes over, like a good partner should, to check on Harry completely out of a sense of what is right and not at all having to do with Draco’s little crush.





	The Beginning of Something to Savor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Forgetticus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forgetticus/gifts).



    

Draco leaned closer to the stranger he’d been dancing with. The man wore a skin tight plum-purple dress that only just covered his arse with matching lipstick that highlighted his plump lips. The music was loud. Draco could barely hear the man and they were inches apart.

    Draco ignored the man’s hand on his groin and asked him to repeat what he said. The man laughed. “Harry. _Potter_ . Is at the bar. _Crying_. Can you believe it?”

    Draco let the words sink in as the man pushed up against him, moving to the thumping beat of the music. It wasn’t that Potter was at the only wizarding gay club in London, no, that part was old enough news. Potter’s face had been on the front of every wizarding publication in the last six months answering questions about his divorce from Ginny Weasley and his bisexuality. The part that had Draco confused was that Potter was at the bar... _crying_.

    He’d been Potter’s auror partner for a little over a year and had never seen the man look anything less than pleased to be alive. In fact, the man was the physical embodiment of optimism, so much so that Draco was put off in the beginning to be assigned as his partner. The unyielding positivism drove him mad. Even during the divorce. On the outside, it looked like Potter maintained the most ridiculous calm, but if he was at the bar crying then maybe not. Draco almost thought the man was one of those robot things muggles were always so afraid of in the movies. It was nice to know he had an emotion other than happy.  

    The plum-lipped man, who up until that point Draco had been keen on taking home for a good romp in the sheets, seemed boring now as he leaned in and whispered. “Wanna get out of here?”

    It had been tempting. He _was_ tempting. But Draco surprised himself by saying, “No.”

    The man was taken aback. His dark eyebrow quirked up. His plum purple lips stretched into an unpleasant smirk. Draco guessed he didn’t get rejected often. “Your loss, sweetheart.”

    Draco watched the man slowly make his way to the other end of the dance floor. His dress was tight enough that Draco saw the curves of his toned arse. _My loss indeed_ , he thought as he watched the man slip away between the crowd. He’d likely kick himself in the morning when he woke up to an impossibly hard reminder of what an idiot he’d been, but he had to see Potter crying for himself. Plus it was likely the right thing to do. Check on his partner and all.

    Pushing his way through the crowd, Draco spotted Potter at the bar. He was hunched over a glass of whiskey. He wore a tight gray shirt. It was sheer and Draco could see the defined muscle of his shoulders and back expand and contract with each breath he took. From the way he was dressed, Draco guessed Potter had come here with the intention of having fun, not moping at the bar.

    Taking the open stool next to Potter, Draco got the attention of the bartender and ordered himself a whiskey. Potter didn’t even look up. He just raised his glass to his lips and took a small sip. He sniffled as he drank.

    “Potter, is that you?” Draco asked trying to sound casual like he’s just realized they were next to one another.

    Potter looked up from his glass. “Draco?” His face was red and there were tear stains on his cheeks. The stench of alcohol that came off his breath told Draco that Potter had more than one whiskey. His breath smelled like it could tranquilize a Hippogriff.

    “You alright there, mate?” Draco asked, slapping him on the back playfully.

    “Fine, yeah,” Potter said raising his glass. He waited there, a tear running down his cheek, until Draco raised his glass and clinked with him. “How’re you, then?”

    “Blowing off steam. The Cleary case paperwork was enough to stress me into an early grave. You’re lucky you didn’t have to fill out the request for magical diagnosis forms. They’re a nightmare, aren’t they?”

    Potter nodded. “Cheers to that.” He took the last sip of his drink and beckoned the bartender over. He slammed the glass down on the bar. “‘Nother one, mate. And one for my partner over here.”

    The bartender, a small man with blonde hair and green eyes, smirked at the use of the word ‘partner.’ Potter belatedly realized how that sounded. His face flushed pink. “No, not like that. He’s my _work_ partner. We work together. Draco tell him we work together.”

    Sighing, Draco nodded. “We work together.”

    The bartender shrugged. “None of my business, is it boys? I just pour the drinks.” He smiled as he topped off Draco’s drink then turned to Potter. “Though I do have to say you’d be lucky to have a partner as cute as this one.”

    “Why, thank you.” Draco leaned on the bar and smiled. “And what is your name?”

    “Bra—” the bartender began, but Potter cut him off.

    “Oi, come off it, mate. We’re having a conversation.”

     The bartender raised his eyebrows. “I don’t want to get in the middle of whatever _this_ is, but...” He jotted something down on a napkin and slid it to Draco. “For when you’re a bit less busy.”

     It was his name, Brad, and his number. Draco smiled at the man as he walked down the bar to serve someone else. He had a nice arse. Nice enough that Draco pocketed the napkin for future use.

    “Merlin, do you ever stop?” Potter asked, pulling Draco’s attention from Brad.

     Draco ignored the question. “Why are you at the bar crying, Potter? This isn’t exactly the right place for sad drinking. That’s more the Leaky’s speed, isn’t it?”

    “Psh, not crying. I’m drinking. And shove it.”

    “Look I know we aren’t like the kind of mates who tell each other everything or whatever, but I _am_ here for you. I’m your partner after all, aren’t I?”

    The was a pause before Potter spoke. “Don’t have to do this.”

    “What?’

    “You don’t have to talk to me, you know?”

    “I, uh, I know. I want to though.”

     Potter eyed him suspiciously and let out a laugh. “Fine then. My life is officially a mess. You saw the paper, right?”

     Draco nodded. He had seen the _Prophet_ that morning, but he expected it didn’t even register for Potter since he maintained such a sunny disposition. The front page was a revealing expose on the end of Potter’s marriage. Apparently Ginny wanted to get her side of things out before she went down in the history books as the villainess who broke the Saviour of the Wizarding World’s heart by divorcing him eight months ago. It painted quite the intimate portrait of Potter coming to terms with the fact that while he loved Ginny, he wasn’t in love with her and that their marriage wasn’t the match made in heaven everyone expected it to be. She didn’t hold back any detail, even the unbecoming ones. Bit damning to his image as the Golden Boy of our generation.

     Potter spread his hands out in front of him. “Gin really let it all out, yeah?” His eyes started to water again. He sniffled. “Thought coming out would take my mind off it, but it’s all anyone wants to talk about.”

    “It was... _detailed_ ,” Draco admitted.

    “Some bloke came up to me, threw a drink in my face, and told me Gin was right to leave me and that I was, in his decided opinion, a real shit person.”

    “Oh.” Draco saw the wet stain around Potter’s collar now. 

   “Well, right then. Now ask me again why I’m at the bar crying.”

    “Point taken.” Draco sipped at his drink. The whiskey was warm on his tongue and shocked some sense back into him. He’d been letting himself think about a section from the _Prophet_ article that outlined Potter’s dalliance with one of his quidditch mates. Bit steamy for the morning papers. That was Rita Skeeter for you though.

    Potter nodded. “I need more whiskey.” He reached behind the bar and snatched up the whiskey bottle. He tipped it over his cup and started to pour.

   “I think maybe you don’t.” Draco put his hand on the neck of the bottle. His fingers brushed Potter’s briefly as he led it back to its place behind the bar.

   “I think maybe your a cock,” Potter spat out, then sipped at the little bit of whiskey left in his cup.

   A laugh escaped Draco’s lips before he could stop himself. “Did you just call me a cock?”

  “So what if I did, eh?”

  “I don’t think I have ever seen you like this. How much have you had?”

   Potter leaned back in his stool and looked up at the ceiling as if searching for the answer in the exposed rafters. “Probably, ‘bout five to seven.”

   “Five to seven what?”

    Potter shrugged. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the bar. Then rested his head on his folded arms. “I think I need to go home now.”

   “I think you’re right.”

   “ _You’re_ right,” Potter shot up and swayed from the momentum, shouting it like it was an insult.

   “I’m gonna take you home, yeah?”

   “Ugh, fine. Do it then, won’t you?”

    A moment passed where Draco cursed himself for coming over to the bar. He could have left well enough alone. He could have been naked with plum lipstick rings around his cock. But, no...he was likely going to get vomited on by Harry Potter’s drunk ass.

   “Come on.” Draco hooked Potter’s arm around his shoulder and dragged him up from the bar stool. The weight of his body slumped against Draco and they swayed.

   “Are we—” Potter hiccuped. “Are we apparating?”

   “You think you can manage it without vomiting on my shoes? They’re Italian leather.”

    Potter scrunched his face. “You’re so posh, oh my gods, you’re so very posh. How did I get such a posh partner?”

   “I’m not posh.”

    Potter side-eyed him. “Right and I’m not Harry Potter.”

    “That doesn’t make one lick of sense.”

    “I didn’t lick you, did I?” Potter straightened up and turned seriously to look at Draco.

    “Let’s get you home, shall we?”

    Potter nodded in agreement.

                                                                                          ***

Apparating while buzzed was hard enough when Draco was by himself. With Potter it felt like he was lugging an anvil with him. The dead weight of his partner almost made him miss the mark of Potter’s apartment apparition point.

    It was a small miracle that Draco and Potter didn’t get splinched upon arrival. The night air was cool and Draco breathed it in. The crisp autumn air was sobering enough that whatever buzz he felt earlier it was waning. The moon was luminous up above. Nearly full, it hung behind thin gray clouds.

    “Merlin, it’s cold.” Potter hugged Draco’s side and wrapped his arms tight around Draco’s torso. His breath hitched as Potter’s cold hand slipped up under the hem of his shirt.

   “Well you’re the fool who wore a sheer t-shirt out on an October night.”

    Potter whined. “It gets hot in the bar.”

   “They have a coat check.”

    Potter looked up from where he rested his head on Draco’s chest. His glasses were fogged up from his warm breath. “You could have apparated into my house.”

   “Don’t you have wards up?”

   “Yeah, but I added you to the list ages ago.”

   “Oh, I didn't…”

    Before Draco could finish his thought, which was why in the hell did Potter add him and not tell him, Potter asked, “Can you get my key out of my pocket?”

    Draco laughed. “Which pocket, Potter?”

   “The front left one.”

   “Merlin’s beard.” Draco sighed and reached his hand around to Potter’s jean pocket. His pants were loose fitting, so at least he had no trouble slipping a finger inside the pocket. Potter stayed still, looking at Draco while he fished the key out.

   The absurdity of the scene hit Draco all at once. Standing on the stoop to 12 Grimmauld place with a slightly drunk Potter clinging to him for warmth while he fished around the blokes pocket for a key. Pansy would get a kick out of this story, no doubt about that.

   Finally, Draco felt the cool metal of the key and slowly slipped it up and out of the pocket. Potter was smirking at him.

   “ _What_?”

   “You could have used your wand.”

   “My gods, you’re a prat when your buzzed.” Draco shook his head and turned away from Potter to hide the blush creeping up his neck. He put the key in the lock. It clicked and he pushed the door in. The hallway was dimly lit with some candles in sconces on the walls. The faint smell of rosemary wafted from the kitchen. Draco heard the distinct crackle of a fire in the hearth. “Don’t you live alone?”

   Potter nodded and let go of Draco, walking inside. “Creature’s still here. I freed him, but he refused to leave, the wanker, so I let him stay. It was more his home than mine anyway. He still does all the cooking and cleaning. Fine by me since I work too late to cook most nights.”

   “So, I should, uh, I’ll see you Monday?” Draco stood on the threshold, half in Potter’s home and half out of it.

   Potter stopped walking and turned on his heels. He blinked his eyes like he was clearing spots from them. The momentum of the turn made him wobble a bit.  “Don’t be daft. Come in and have some coffee with me.”

   “I’m not sure that’s…”

   “Come on. I’ve had a shit night.” Potter leaned on a small wooden table in the front hallway. There were half open parchments strewn across the top. “Keep me company. It’s what partners do, isn't it?”

   “I wouldn’t know. You’re my first, remember?” Draco smiled and stepped into the front hallway. The door shut behind him with a small click. The front hallway was a bit depressing, Draco thought. The wallpaper a drab gray with arabesque designs that might have been fashionable in Victorian times, but now made the hall look ancient. Small candles in silver sconces lit their way.

   “Right. I forgot how long they kept you on desk duty after you graduated training. Pricks.” Potter waved a hand and the candles burned brighter, lighting up the hallway enough for Draco to see a large portrait covered in a black sheet.

   “It’s old news, Potter.” Draco eyed the covered painting curiously. He could hear a shrill woman mumbling behind it. Absentmindedly, he followed Potter down the hallway. “No need to be enraged on my behalf.”

   As they moved through the house, Draco peered inside the sitting room at the red velvet couch with golden trim. It was mismatching from the rest of the furniture which was all dark wood and deep purples. The red couch was situated in front of a small wooden box with a picture screen on it that Draco recognized as one of those muggle television things Potter went on about ad nauseum.

   When they arrived in the kitchen, Draco noticed immediately how bright it was compared to the rest of the house. It was small, but cozy. The walls were wood panels painted white. It reminded Draco of a cabin. The counters were packed full of jars and appliances. Some appliances Draco didn’t recognize at first, and belatedly realized one was a toaster. He found himself wondering why Potter insisted on doing things the muggle way even still.

   The trim around the window was white. It looked into the back garden and small herb plants lined the window sill. The cabinets were pale blue with mismatch in knobs. There was a cast iron kettle already boiling on the stove.  “Is instant coffee okay?”

   “It’s fine.” Making his way around the island counter in the middle of the kitchen, Draco found a stool and sat on it. “Your kitchen is so different from the rest of the house.”

   “I started remodeling it.”

   “Oh, all by yourself?”

   “It’s how I keep busy on weekends when Gin has the kids. Trying to make the place more like a home so the kids don’t feel weird here. So I don't feel weird here.”

   “That’s good. The place is a bit antiquated, I expect. And grim.”

    Potter laughed. “Merlin, you have no idea.” He made quick work of measuring out the coffee grounds and steeping them in the water.

    Without looking away from his task, Potter said, “Thanks, Draco.”

    “For what?” Draco didn’t understand why Potter was thanking him so much. By his account he didn’t do anything worth the praise.

     Still keeping his eyes on his task of making the coffee, Potter responded. “Listening to me whine.”

    “You’re not whining and it’s my pleasure.”

    “You’re actually my mate aren’t you?” Potter turned to look over his shoulder at Draco. Their eyes met and suddenly Draco felt like the room was getting smaller.

    “Wh—what kind of question is that?”

    “I mean, you actually like me as a person, not just because we work together.”

    Draco considered that and decided it was true. “Yeah, I expect I do, don’t I?”

    “You're a good friend, Draco. Merlin, that is such a weird feeling. You and me, friends? After all that shit in school?” Potter shook his head at the thought. “Thanks again.” Potter said as he poured the coffee into the mugs and set one on the island in front of Draco.

    “Merlin Potter, would you quit thanking me?” Draco sighed. It was odd that they ended up here, friends, after everything that happened during their childhood. But Draco was glad for it all. He was glad for Potter’s friendship. “That's what friends do, right? They help each other.”

    Potter smiled. It was a warm smile that reached his eyes. He pulled the stool out from behind the counter, dragging Draco closer to him and stood between his legs. They were silent for what felt like an eternity and then Potter placed his hand on Draco’s neck and dragged him into a soft kiss.

    It was just lips touching lips, but Draco breathed in deep. His heart fluttered and he clenched his fists at his side. Potter hummed quietly and the noise vibrated on Draco’s lips sending a shiver across his entire body. The hairs on his neck stood at attention.

     After a moment, Draco pulled back. His heart was beating in his ears. “Potter—Harry, I think, uh, I think I better go.”

     “Oh, oh, fuck. Draco, I'm-I'm so sorry. Uh, this, this wasn’t why I asked... I-It wasn't planned or anything.” Potter backed up slowly until he hit the kitchen counter, putting a few feet of space between their bodies. His hand was at his lips. His eyes were wide open and strikingly green.

     “I, uh, oh, Merlin, uh Harry, _Potter_ , shit.” Draco stood up from the stool and walked over to Potter. He placed a hand on his shoulder. The contact made his breath hitch in his throat and he was all too aware of Potter’s eyes on him. “I know. I get it. Don’t worry. We can just forget it ever happened, okay? No worries. You had a bit much to drink. I did, too.”

     Draco began to remove his hand, but Potter caught it and held it softly in between them. He slipped his fingers in between Draco’s, intertwining them. “Draco, wait, wait. I don’t want to forget it. I don’t.” He looked at their hands between them. “I've always found you, you know, quite attractive. Well, very attractive really.”

    The sudden confession caught Draco off guard. His heart was beating faster than a pixies wings. “That's, well, thanks, but I should still go.” The words felt empty of meaning. He didn’t want to go. Why had he said that? He cursed himself internally. What he wanted to do was stay and shout at Potter for being such an endearing ponce then kiss him until their mouths were raw. Merlin, the look on his face was enough to make Draco melt to his knees. So open and vulnerable.

    Potter let go of Draco’s hand, but closed the space between them. “It's just that seeing you now, looking into your eyes and you’re so kind to me, I just wanted to, I had to—Oh, Merlin, what am I doing?” He backed away, shaking his head. “This isn’t romantic, this is just weird. I’m being weird, aren’t I?”

    “Listen, y-you're my partner. We’ve known each other for years, Potter. Not all of them great. We just started to get along. I just didn’t expect that you...that you felt that way. I was just thrown off.”

    “Oh, _Draco_.” Potter’s voice was a low growl that sent a pulse through Draco’s body, awakening his cock. Potter’s face shifted from the doe caught in the woods to the wolf stalking his prey in one breath of a moment.

    Draco swallowed hard and leaned casually against the counter. He couldn’t stop himself from raking his eyes up and down Potter’s torso. The sheer shirt left nothing to the imagination. Yet, here Draco was _imagining_ , imagining all the things implied by Potter’s tone.

    “There's always been a little sexual tension between us, you have to admit,” Potter said, cocking his head to one side.

     A moment passed as Draco considered the truth of those words. He had always felt something there, but he thought it was all on his side. Potter had been married. What Draco picked up on was his own school boy crush that had always been there, below the surface, and he was reminded of it with every brush of Potter’s hand, every late night in the office. 

     Draco nodded. A sharp movement up and down, admitting that, at least for him, there was sexual tension. He didn’t dare try to say anything. His throat was dry and he didn’t trust himself not to say something ridiculous.

    He’d felt a strong pull toward Potter in their youth. It was only stronger now with the more time they spent together, but he ignored it. First because Potter was married. Second because he didn’t want to jeopardize all he worked for to finally become an auror.

    He lowered his head. He couldn't believe he was having this conversation with Potter. He’d fantasized, sure, but he never let himself think it could happen.

    “For me, it started the first day you were assigned as my partner. We spared, remember? And you kicked my ass.” Potter paused. A laugh escaped his lips. “I looked up at you when you had me pinned. Your eyes were so focused. I, I looked up and I thought, ‘Merlin! Who is this man? How have I never seen this fire in him after all these years of knowing him?’”

    “Really?” Draco asked. His tongue was dry. He was more nervous now than he’d ever been chasing down a dark wizard. More nervous than he’d been when Voldemort was his house guest. Standing there, inches away from Potter, Draco swallowed hard.

   “Really.” Potter nodded. “Do you feel that way at all? About, about me that is?”

   “I, uh, I don’t know, Potter.” But he did know. His body was screaming the answer. His cock pressed against the tight fabric of his trousers. His heart hammered in his chest threatening to burst through his ribs.

   Potter moved forward and leaned in to whisper. “All those nights we spent on stake outs, or early mornings when we trained. You never thought about me once?”

   Their bodies were flush. Draco felt Potter’s heart beating against his own. His breath was warm on Draco’s neck. It took every bit of his self control to stay still. “You were married. I never let myself think about it.”

   “I’m not married anymore, Draco.” Potter’s voice came out a dark, deep growl. Draco never heard Potter sound this way before. His voice was everything forbidden, everything Draco knew he coveted but could never have. He wanted to taste those words on Potter’s tongue. On his body. On his soul.

   “No, you’re not.”  Draco inhaled sharply. He could feel Potter’s breath on his lips. Draco leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. There were a million things he wanted to say, a million things he wanted to ask, but before he could, Potter kissed him again. This time, it was rough and knocked Draco backward. They stumbled together, backing into the island counter. Draco laughed into the kiss and felt Potter smile on his lips. He wrapped his hands around Draco, pulling him close. Removing any space between them.

   Shudders ran though Draco as Potter flicked his tongue out across his bottom lip. The motion made his body flush, hot. He sighed into Potter’s mouth. “ _Fuck_.”

   “That’s the idea.” Potter pulled back from the kiss and smiled. He began kissing a line down Draco’s neck. Each kiss was soft on his skin. He trembled and his knees buckled, but Potter’s grip around his torso held him up.

   Biting back a moan, Draco grabbed Potter’s face and pulled him into a deep, hungry kiss that was all open mouth, tongues running over one another. His breath quickened and he felt dizzy. Every time Potter sucked on his tongue, Draco felt a jolt of pleasure rake through his body, all the way to his toes.

    Everything slowed down as Potter pushed his thigh between Draco’s legs and started to grind into him. The motion made Draco pant into the kiss. He felt out of control. His head was swimming. “Fuck, Potter.”

   Without warning, Potter pulled back from the kiss and began to sink to his knees. The motion was languorously slow. He wore a devilish grin, raking his hands down Draco’s chest, his torso. Draco bucked his hips forward as Potter stopped to massage the bulge in his pants.

   “ _Fuck_.” Draco’s voice came out a strangled cry. He looked down at Potter on his knees in front of him. He was making achingly slow work of unfastening Draco’s trousers. There was a grin on his face as he stared up, meeting Draco’s eyes.

   “I like you like this,” Potter teased. He flicked his tongue out and wetted his lips. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

   Draco’s breath was shaky. He smiled at Potter, who finally unfastened his trousers and yanked them down to his shins. Potter ran his hands up Draco’s thighs, slowing as they reached the hem of his pants, rubbing the inside of his thighs. Each stroke awakening Draco’s cock.

   “I want to taste you.” Potter’s voice was all hunger, all desperation. He licked his lips again and freed Draco’s erection from his pants. Pre-cum glistened on the tip. Potter hummed as he gripped the shaft lightly in one hand and cupped his balls with the other.

   Again, Draco was struck by the absurdity of his situation: Naked in Potter’s kitchen about to get a blow job form his former rival and current partner. He couldn’t stop a laugh from bubbling up. “Merlin, this is insane.”

   “That’s what makes it so exciting.” Potter kissed the tip of Draco’s cock. It was a soft kiss, but it was enough to make Draco twitch. He felt his entire body anticipating Potter’s lips around his cock. His hands gripped the marble counter behind him to keep himself from sinking to the floor.

   “Get on with it already,” Draco begged. He knew he sounded desperate. And he was. He wanted Potter to swallow him to the hilt. He wanted to run his hands through Potter’s messy hair and yank back his head. He wanted to come inside Potter. He’d wanted it for longer than he would admit.

   “I want to savor this. I want to savor you.” Potter licked a line down the shaft of Draco’s cock. The words aroused him more than the motion. A pool of desire bubbled inside of him, burning to get out.

    Draco’s breath hitched. He stood stiff against the island counter—the cool marble countertop on his back—he closed his eyes. “Harry, please.”

   “I’m going to savor you.” Potter sucked at the tip. Taking in just enough that Draco felt his hips buck forward desperate for entry. “Don’t you _want_ to be savored, Draco?” Potter licked the slit. It sent a jolt of pleasure through his body.

   “Merlin, _yes_.”

    Without another word, Potter slid his hands around to Draco’s ass. He dug his nails in and Draco moaned as Potter slipped his mouth around Draco’s cock and sucked at the head before slipping down to meet his hand that still gripped his shaft.

    Potter hummed around his cock. Draco watched he head bob and fought the urge to grab Potter’s head and fuck his mouth.

    Each time Potter pulled back to the tip, Draco felt himself get closer and closer to coming. As Potter reached the tip he swirled his tongue around, dipping into the slit. Then he swallowed to his hand again.

    A wave of lust hit Draco and he knew he was close. He braced himself, gripping Potter’s shoulders. “Harry, Merlin’s balls, Harry. Fuck.”

    Potter looked up at Draco and smiled around his cock as Draco climaxed, spilling into his mouth.

    Licking his lips, Potter stood. His eyes were half-lidded, heavy with lust. His lips were raw and red. “Stay with me. I’m not done savoring you.”

    Draco didn’t answer. The whole night felt like a dream he would wake up from. Like he would realize he knocked off at his desk trying to finish paperwork and had this ridiculous fantasy about Potter and then he’d have to blush every time Potter talked to him.

   “Fuck it,” he whispered more to himself than to Potter. If this was a dream, he might as well enjoy it up to the last drop. And if it wasn’t a dream, well...“I’d love to stay.”

  
  
  
  
  
  



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